6

Exactly two weeks after meeting Willis Lee at the gun range, Joel was hired by Bank Antriol to work in its pop-up anti-money laundering unit.

The place was situated in an empty storefront in a strip mall. Joel couldn’t remember what the old business had been, but for the past several years the location was used as a temporary seasonal Halloween shop. It was large enough to have been a department store along the lines of a TJ Maxx or Stein Mart.

Joel had been interviewed by Freddie Barton, the manager of the site. Freddie was a man in his forties who wore a suit and Clark Kent glasses. He struck Joel as someone who was likely a strict, quota-enforcing bureaucrat with no sense of humor.

Freddie was impressed that Joel had experience in the Middle East, as this would be an asset in the work. Joel’s math skills and experience in working in teams with clear chains of command were also considered a plus. In short, though, Joel figured he was hired because the AML unit needed bodies. At any rate, he would start at an entry-level position at twenty-five bucks an hour. If Joel exhibited strong proficiency after a couple of weeks or more, then this past experience would play into rapid promotion and more money.

“Why is the unit in Plainsburg, Kentucky?” Joel had asked.

Freddie had shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any. The space was available at a good price, I guess. We’re a global bank. We can work from anywhere. It’s the new normal.”

Joel thought it was probably because they could get cheap labor, and this was confirmed when, during the “nickel tour,” Joel was surprised to see so many high-school-age employees and temp workers who didn’t appear to have much life experience or office familiarity. The unit was laid out with rows of inexpensive cubicles and workstations. Stairs at the back of the space led up to a balcony where management, behind makeshift walls and glass windows, oversaw the factory-like atmosphere.

“Exactly what will I be doing?” Joel asked.

“Ah,” Freddie said. “You’ll go through a day of training, but it’s really easy. Bank Antriol is headquartered in the Netherlands, but we have a main branch in New York City. My immediate supervisors are Blake Dullea and Karl Maher, executive vice presidents of the branch there, and they were personally in charge of the creation of this unit. This is uniquely their program. Very sharp guys. They come down here for a visit fairly often, so you’ll get to meet them soon.”

“I look forward to that.”

“Anyway, after 9/11 the Department of Justice leaned hard on banks to do its job tracking bad guys, requiring us to institute a whole bunch of internal procedures for flagging suspicious customers. You’ve heard about the $10k rule?”

“The what?”

“If a person deposits more than $10k in cash at a bank, it gets reported. That rule.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“It’s really like that. The US got caught so flat-footed by 9/11 that its knee-jerk reaction was to clamp down on everyone’s civil rights. Patriot Act and all, you know. Illegal cell phone tracking, domestic spying, you name it. Well, that included banks, too. Now we have to jump through a bunch of hoops here in the States so Uncle Sam can sleep better at night thinking that we will be able to help prevent some nut job from buying a five-dollar box cutter and boarding a plane again.”

“How’s that even possible?” Joel asked.

“Sanctions. The government sanctions people they deem ‘bad guys’ and then it falls on banks like us to help freeze them out of their money and stop them from using it for whatever bad shit they’ve supposedly done or plan to do.”

“Okay. So what’s that have to do with what we’re doing here?”

“A few years back, it was Bank Antriol’s turn to be some buffoonish overpaid and underworked government regulator’s punching bag. As usual, someone at the Treasury Department was trying to make it look like they actually worked for a living. Then the no-count DOJ had to pile on and look like they’re actually winning whatever war they’ve decided to wage that day—the war on drugs, the war on terror—hell, if you ask me, it’s just more of the woke’s new war on capitalism. A routine audit detected a minor technical glitch in the systems Antriol had set up to flag suspicious banking activity. Treasury and the DOJ jumped on their soapboxes claiming we had violated banking laws and failed to file what are called Suspicious Activity Reports, or SARs. It’s really a bunch of BS. Anyway, we paid a fine and agreed to a re-review of transactions. We report the results to Wall Street watchdogs so they can say they’re doing their part fighting terrorists and whatnot.”

“Willis Lee told me a little about that.”

“Right. Willis has rapidly moved up the ladder here to a management position overseeing the Asian branch. Anyway, the DOJ has this list of sanctioned companies and individuals who have been suspected of supporting terrorism, drug trafficking, invading other countries … all that kind of stuff.”

“And here I am.”

“Yep, welcome to the party,” Freddie said with a smile. “Here, we do the re-review of decades-long backlog of transaction data. The bank has a customer account monitoring program—called CAMP—that stores the bank’s transactions, including wire transfers. On top of that, the bank has an alert monitoring system, or AMS, that monitors CAMP. If the AMS comes across a transaction that involves a sanctioned entity, it sends out an alert of suspicious activity. It will be your job to examine the alert and deliver a report about it.”

Joel nodded. “I get that. I assume there are various degrees of suspicious activity?”

“You catch on quick! Yes, there are three ways an alert can be handled. The best outcome for the bank is for you to clear it. That’s what the bank really wants. What it boils down to is that we’re in the customer service business. Our customers are billion dollar entities that keep the world’s economy moving. They expect us to provide the best service, which means to facilitate their financial transactions with as little delay and interference as possible. We encourage everyone here to find every opportunity to clear any alerts. The more alerts that are cleared, the more satisfied our customers are and the more money the bank makes, and that will factor into your promotions and increases in salary. To close an alert, you’ll personally write a brief narrative that reviews all the facts and information about the transaction in question and show how there is no need for the alert that is being reported. That wipes the alert clean. Of course, in rare circumstances, clearing an alert is not always possible. A second option for dealing with an alert is that it is escalated to an SAR. Those are rare occurrences that would go to me personally, and after reviewing it, I forward it to Mr. Dullea and Mr. Maher in New York, and to the Treasury Department. The third way an alert is handled is to simply place it ‘on watch.’ This means the alert is not suspicious enough to be escalated to an SAR, but there is enough so that an investigation should be done comparing it to any other suspicious activity in the past or in the future. All in all, it ain’t that complicated for a smart guy like you.”

Joel thought he could handle all of that. Freddie offered him the job, and Joel accepted.

Now, a week into the work in the Asian branch, which included the Middle East, he was a bit overwhelmed by how much data there was. The bank had literally thousands of transactions. It was no wonder that the AML unit had hired around two hundred bodies to work there, packed into cubicles like sardines.

From day one, Joel would meet up with Willis Lee for their lunch break. Willis was now his immediate supervisor. On the eighth day of Joel’s employment, Willis said, “I think Freddie likes your work. You’re far surpassing all those kids out there with your output. You’re going to advance quickly.”

“I appreciate you letting me know that. I’m happy to have the job.”

“You’ll be a valued member of the team.”

Joel had noticed something about Willis, who had had a hand in Joel’s training. Willis seemed to be able to calculate complicated equations in his head. His brain was like a massive storehouse of information that he had no problem accessing. When Joel mentioned this to Willis, the man replied with modesty, “I’m what doctors call a savant when it comes to memory. I am blessed and cursed with a brain that stores way too much information. That’s why I was good as an ORSA analyst in the Marines. Operations research/systems analysis. I guess I was born this way. I don’t think anything of it, but, yeah, I can remember stuff. I’m told there are very few of my types walking around. Not sure whether that’s good or bad.”

All Joel could say in reply was, “Wow.” He had previously thought of Willis as a bit of an odd duck, but a likeable one. Now he regarded the guy with a certain amount of awe.

* * *

A month into Joel’s employment at Bank Antriol’s AML unit, he was promoted with a good raise to overseeing the review of transactions involving West Asia. This encompassed Middle East countries including Israel, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, the UAE, Lebanon, Syria, Iran, Afghanistan, and, yes, Iraq. Willis Lee had been promoted and now worked in the management office with Freddie Barton. Joel was still friendly with Willis, and on days off they spent time at the gun range together, and, afterwards, drinking beer at Beggar’s Ravine. He and Willis talked little about the work itself. Their topics of conversation mostly consisted of the various women working at the unit.

One such lady that Joel had noticed was Janet Blanco, an attractive brunette who was supervisor of the Latin America branch. Her cubicle was just across the aisle from Joel’s. They had spoken occasionally at first, and that had led to meeting up for lunch during the break. Joel knew he shouldn’t even dream about a possible relationship with Janet … well, he could dream about it, but he wasn’t going to act on it. Not unless she showed some kind of sign that she might be interested. So far, though, it was all platonic.

One day Janet asked him, “Have you kept track of the percentage of SARs you submit versus the ones you clear?”

“I’m clearing more,” he replied. “I haven’t thought about the percentage. Maybe ninety-five percent are cleared. Why?”

“It’s the same with me. I suppose with Middle East transactions, the sanctioned people are suspected of funding terrorists, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“With my area, it’s more about drug cartels. I can’t believe the bank was doing business with them, but they were.”

“Why would the bank knowingly do this?”

Janet rubbed her fingers and thumb together. “Come on, why do you think? Cash-ola!”

He smiled. “Yeah, I figured that much. But I have to say, there’s something odd that—”

Freddie Barton walked into the break room, and they went quiet. He said hello and then stood at the vending machine. Janet shook her head at Joel and said no more with the boss there. They continued to eat their sandwiches as Freddie painstakingly pondered which candy bar to buy. Once he finally made his purchase he turned to them. “Ah, look at you two branch heads showing genuine camaraderie. I like that, I think. Hey, I’m about to make an announcement over the intercom. Mr. Dullea and Mr. Maher just arrived in town and will be addressing the unit at three o’clock. They’ll want to meet with you both after that.”

“Oh, cool,” Joel said. “Thanks. I look forward to that.”

When Freddie left the room, Janet whispered, “Have you met Dullea and Maher before?”

“No. They haven’t been here since I started.”

She simply nodded and rolled her eyes a little.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’ll let you make an assessment on your own.”

“What were you about to say earlier?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you later, but not here.”

* * *

Blake Dullea was a man in his forties who wore a fancy suit with a brand name that Joel guessed was likely Italian. Dullea might have stepped out of an ad for the bank. Joel thought he looked more like a male model than a bank executive. Still, he projected an aura of confidence and slick charm. He spoke with a pronounced New York accent, but he seemed to work at covering up the harsh edge with an Ivy League polish. The women in the unit were definitely paying attention to him. Joel sensed that Dullea could very well have his pick if the guy wanted a conquest.

Karl Maher was also dressed in a sharp suit. Again, Joel didn’t know anything about Fifth Avenue or Madison Avenue men’s wear, but whatever it was, it screamed expensive. Maher, too, was a good-looking man, a little younger than Dullea, maybe late thirties. Joel guessed that he had Middle Eastern or Mediterranean attributes because of a swarthier skin color, dark eyes, and black hair. When he spoke, his English was unmistakably “American,” although there was no regional inflection that Joel could pinpoint.

“Karl and I have to congratulate all of you on the tremendous work you’re doing,” Dullea said with gusto. “The number of alerts cleared in the past month surpassed September, so give yourselves a round of applause!”

Everyone did so.

Dullea and Maher stood on the balcony outside the management office to address all the employees in the unit. Most people were standing outside their cubicles to get a better view.

When the applause died down, Dullea continued. “That said, it is important to flag suspicious transactions; that is, those made to or on behalf of DOJ-sanctioned organizations and individuals known to support terrorism or drug trafficking. That’s why you’re here. But at the same time, it’s just as important to clear as many transactions as possible. Bank Antriol is depending on you to clear these alerts quickly and in mass quantities. That’s why we’ve come here today to announce a new incentive program. Karl’s going to tell you about it.”

Karl took the microphone and said, “Thank you, Blake. Good afternoon, everyone. We at Bank Antriol are happy to announce that beginning this month, the thirty employees who clear the most alerts will receive a fifteen percent raise in salary. If you are in the top thirty next month, you will again get the raise, and so on, as long as you’re employed at the unit. Furthermore, the person who clears the most alerts between now and December 31 of this year will receive an all-expenses paid trip for you and your immediate family for three days at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida!”

The employees applauded and oohed and aahed with glee.

Blake took the microphone back. “And … depending on how all that works out, that little perk may continue in 2023. Maybe the next paid vacation will take you to Las Vegas! Or bring you to New York City to see some Broadway shows!”

More applause and delight.

Joel rubbed his chin. Both men sounded like barkers at a second-rate carnival. It was clearly a blatant attempt to get the not-so-smart employees to cut corners and clear alerts. Maybe that was okay. Perhaps there was no harm done by that. The problem he was having was that he had already connected the dots on how money flowing through the New York branch could end up in the wrong pockets. The process of scanning the data and writing reports had made it clear to him. If he were honest with himself, it wouldn’t take detailed analysis to understand how easy it was to make a transaction appear legitimate and produce a limitless cache of weapons for drug cartels in Central and South America. In his new position, Joel had gained deeper access into the bank’s transaction data, including more insight into customer details. While he had been clearing alerts at a rapid rate, he had also placed many of them on “watch” and issued several SARs. He had noticed that Freddie was never happy when SARs were forwarded to him. It was as if he didn’t want to deal with them, or that they somehow made him look bad in the eyes of his New York superiors. Wouldn’t Dullea and Maher have been pleased to get the SARs as proof that the AML unit was doing the job it was created to do? The more he thought about it, all those dots were becoming heavier to carry around.

He remembered Janet rubbing her fingers and thumb together.

Of course! It’s all about the money to be made. It’s how the world turns.

It reinforced the beliefs he’d been nurturing over the past several years that all of government and big business were corrupt.

And now the question he had to answer for himself was whether he had become part of that corruption.